


Lovesick

by Ooft



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Boys Will Be Boys, Cuddling, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Post-Island, This Is STUPID, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, brief (very brief) mention where Ralph has PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but this is cute I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ooft/pseuds/Ooft
Summary: If you read the title and the tags, you already know. Just some tooth-rotting, stupid stunts being done by some stupid boys.
Relationships: Jack Merridew/Ralph
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Lovesick

**Author's Note:**

> These guys are fucking stupid and I stand by it.

Jack stands in front of the choir, giving a passionate speech to all of his boys. With his arms waving in gesture and his eyes bright, he looks focused, pacing back and forth along the front of the music room. His shoes click on the wood with each step, sharp and purposeful. 

Off to the side, Ralph sits and watches in wonder, trying to come up with a reason as to how this boy before him has matured this much in only a few years. It’s the therapy, he’s well aware of that, but he likes to think he’s had some part in the process, his affection perhaps acting as some form of inspiration for Jack, pushing and driving him to become better. 

Jack’s gaze slides to him for a fleeting moment, which may not be enough time for Ralph to snap out of his lovesick trance and smile, but it doesn’t worry him. Months ago, Jack gave up on teasing him, the increasing number of times he’d catch Ralph looking lovey-dovey making it too repetitive to be all that interesting. Now, he accepts it, though Ralph still glimpses the slight flush of Jack’s cheeks before the other boy can turn away and walk back to the other end of the room. 

All the boys cheer when Jack finishes speaking and rush to their places. Their leader himself moves to the back, right in the middle, towering well above the rest of his peers and looking almost God-like amongst them. The set-up looks perfect, as all of Jack’s plans tend to. 

They sing for an hour, only stopping for thirty seconds between each song to sip their drinks before they go back to it, the piano music swelling and falling with their beautiful voices. Jack’s is the loudest, though in a tasteful way, his voice rising gently above the rest and guiding them. He looks gorgeous when he sings, ethereal in the way he gazes up to the ceiling and doesn’t break concentration, even when one of the other boys’ voices crack. 

At the end of it, Jack congratulates the boys and sends them on their way, leaving only him and Ralph in the music room. Hoping to embarrass him a little, Ralph stays sitting and watching, eyes soft and smile dreamy as Jack drinks from his water bottle and wipes his mouth. 

“What?” Jack asks, cheeks growing red under Ralph’s gaze. 

“Nothing,” Ralph says with a heartfelt sigh. He’s putting it on a little now, but he really does get all warm and fuzzy watching Jack do things. Even mundane tasks are a delight, like him drinking water, brushing his teeth or flicking his fingers as he tries to concentrate on school work. 

Jack frowns at the sparsity of Ralph's explanation, but doesn’t say anything and goes back to drinking his water. 

Bored with the lack of reaction, Ralph snaps out of his trance and sits up, stretching his arms. Behind the drink bottle, Jack’s eyes narrow. 

“What?” Ralph says, innocent as he can. He doesn’t really have any particular mischief in mind as of yet, but he figures that he might as well lead Jack on, tease him while he still has the upper hand. 

“I’ll give you bloody ‘what’ in a minute,” Jack mutters and shakes his head. A moment later, he’s holding his drink bottle up and gazing at it in the light. “Bottle’s empty. I’m gonna go fill it.” 

An opportunity presents itself. “I can always spit in your mouth, if it's really that dry,” Ralph says, fighting back a laugh and shrugging like that's not one of the grossest things he's ever said. 

Jack’s cheeks are almost as dark as his hair now. “Shut up.” 

“Actually, I’d just be paying you back,” Ralph says. At Jack’s morbid, yet curious frown, he explains, “you know, the time we were getting it on and you thought it’d be sexy to spit on me.” 

Eyes blowing out comically wide, Jack’s goes to bawk something out, then shakes his head and leaves the room, stomping up the corridor. Ralph trails behind, feeling impish as he runs up to Jack, smacks his backside and skips off, slipping out of the building before Jack can catch him. 

Once they’re outside, the chase is on. Neither of them run too quickly (if Ralph does, he’ll have a panic attack and think about the island) but Jack runs _just_ fast enough to catch him and wrap him up in an embrace, arms warm around his torso. Laughing and breathless, Ralph goes limp, snorting and half-surprised when Jack’s lips press to the side of his neck. 

Jack's drifting dangerously close to Ralph's collarbone when he pauses, giving Ralph a chance to say something. This kind of sweetness, though only a recent development, it _does_ things to Ralph, makes him feel like all the blood in his body is rushing and it's rushing to get to one place in particular. 

“Put me down so I can kiss you properly," Ralph says, instead of asking for _that._ They've both agreed: _never at school._

Jack complies, like he always does, barely giving Ralph time to find his feet before he grabs his face and kisses him, sudden and passionate, his whole body oozing with affection. In a matter of moments, they’re completely tangled into each other, Jack’s hands finding their way into Ralph’s hair and up his shirt, Ralph’s leg wrapped around Jack’s, one hand on his backside and another at his thigh, fingers hooked into the pocket of his pants. 

After months of kissing constantly (sometimes more), unable to pry themselves away from each other, the boys know one another's bodies perfectly, able to get a reaction from the simplest touches. One of Jack's things is being tugged in, so Ralph does just that, letting his hands wander around and grab at whatever he can, pulling Jack's body harshly against his own and smothering it, trapping heat and sweat between them with practiced ease, eliciting a low whine from Jack, who continues to melt like putty in Ralph's arms. 

In turn, Jack scratches at the back of Ralph's head, his fingers kneading into that soft spot at the base of his skull. Moaning, Ralph cranes his neck back slightly, forcing more pressure onto the spot and smiling lopsidedly against Jack's lips when his legs start to grow weaker, unable to handle the spikes of pleasure pulsing through his skull. They're both getting into this more than they should, Ralph knows, but he can't bring himself to stop just yet. He doesn't ever want this to stop, this feeling of euphoria. 

Everything in the atmosphere is electric. The air around them starts to feel and sound like static, only broken by the noise of their heavy breathing and the soft hum when their lips come together. It makes Ralph feel as though he's trapped and has to stay here forever, like he’ll never get out of this world they’ve created. Not that he’s complaining; this world is full of love and warmth, so much of it he thinks he might combust if he isn’t careful. 

Jack pulls away, but not far, his mouth hovering at the bridge of Ralph’s nose, filling his entire vision with lips that are red and swollen and perfect and just _begging_ to be abused again.

In some moments, Ralph wishes humans didn't need to do anything to keep themselves alive and could just _exist._ This is one of those moments, because breathing air seems like such a waste of time compared to kissing Jack. 

Tilting his head up, Ralph settles for smooching his chin and gazing at his wide, glazed-over eyes. Looking at Jack is a treat in itself, after all, no need to worry about breathing or anything. 

“You alright?” he asks, chuckling breathlessly at the way his voice scratches and fades. 

“Well,” Jack says, stopping as he pants in another breath, “you certainly... spat in my mouth… alright.” 

The comment is somewhat annoying because they both know that ruining romantic moments is Ralph's thing, but he lets it slide for now. He settles instead for a guffaw and shoves Jack's shoulder, scrunching up his face in mock disgust as he plays along. “You’re absolutely feral. Grotty little thing, I- I can’t believe you'd _say_ that, dear Lord.” 

“You know you like it when I’m dirty,” Jack murmurs, reaching out and pulling him back in, pressing a peck to his lips. It stings, but Ralph doesn’t care, chasing Jack for one last kiss before he falls against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around Jack’s slim waist. 

Jack’s arms go over his shoulders and come to rest, clasped, in the middle of his back. For a few seconds, the world around Ralph is silent, save only the thump of Jack’s heart in his ear. He closes his eyes, drifting into the comfortable beat, then-

“Excellent show, gentleman!” a call comes from the left. Above Ralph’s head, Jack groans, long and loud and tired, but there's a hint of humour beneath it. 

“Where can I book tickets for a full show?” someone else says. 

Ralph shifts his head to look at the annoying people, but doesn’t pull away from Jack. 

Sam and Eric stand a little way off, both of them sporting mirrored grins that are reminiscent of goblins. Their phones are out and in their hands, but Ralph doubts they actually took a video. 

That’s more of a Maurice-thing, anyway. 

And of course, as if on queue: “This one’s going up on Pornhub for sure.” And there Maurice is, his phone out, its storage definitely containing one - if not several - photos and recordings of their little session. 

That’s when Ralph finally lets go of Jack, sweeping his arms in gesture for his boyfriend to go ahead and chase down the little gremlin with the camera. Jack kisses his hair and takes off, yelling good-naturedly at Maurice to come back so that they can talk things out. Sam and Eric snicker nearby, both recording the dogfight on their phones. 

Ralph watches Jack go, fully aware of how lovesick he looks. 

He doesn't give a damn in the world about it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Is it OOC? Perhaps. Do I care? Nah. Is this shit? Definitely. Again, do I care? Perhaps a little. It's fine, I'll get over it. 
> 
> (Also just a disclaimer: Maurice wasn't recording them non-consensually, it's a running joke they have)
> 
> Thanks for reading, have an excellent day/night/2am binge!


End file.
